On Top of the World
by Asriyah
Summary: But this is Rufus he's with. Rufus, who hates to show any kind of emotion, especially those which make him feel vulnerable. And which is the best at doing so? Love.


**Title:** [On Top of the World]

**Author:** asriyah

**Genre:** Romance

**Fandom: **FFVII

**Pairings:** Tseng/Rufus

**Rating: **NC-17

**Warnings:** Sex

**Chapter: **Oneshot

**Synopsis**: But this is Rufus he's with. Rufus, who hates to show any kind of emotion, especially those which make him feel vulnerable. And which is the best at doing so? _Love._

"We're on top of the world."

The words are groaned out, as fingers scramble against the glass wall, the slight screech of nails echoing through the room. The clock is ticking on the wall behind them, but the sound is all but drowned out now, by panted breath, whispered words, and muffled groans. The sound of Rufus's voice makes Tseng shudder a little, his fingers gripping the blonde's slim hips just that bit tighter, leaving half crescents imprinted in the pale skin, and Tseng wonders if there will be small bluish bruises there come tomorrow morning. No matter. Nothing matters in these times, nothing but each other, and that's how it's supposed to be.

"Midgar isn't the world," Tseng manages to force out though trying to hold in a moan that threatens to spill past his lips. He does it just to get a reaction from the blonde, does it almost just to annoy him. And he wonders why it is they see it fit to torture each other in such a way? This is not how normal relationships are meant to be. But then again, normal relationships aren't held in secret with a seventeen year old boy, who will one day be president of this entire company.

"But it's all that matters," Rufus mutters, a frown crossing his features, almost as though he's trying to concentrate on saying the worlds. No mean feat, Tseng knows, but still, it's an almost amusing look. Tseng smiles to himself, almost smirking, though his head is bowed, and Rufus does not see it. He's sure that the younger would not stand for it, and can almost picture the look of indignation on his face. He's naive though. Contrary to Rufus's words, there is more out there, more that matters than this cramped city with its steel labyrinth. There is so much more, and Tseng can almost remember days gone past when - no. He stops himself there. Because he hasn't thought of his past for so long, and he doesn't intend to bring up those memories anytime soon, either. All that matters is the here and now. And though in a way he aches for his old life, he doesn't think he'd change anything. He worked hard to get where he is. And though at first it didn't seem to be a fitting job - he was a Turk, so what the hell were they thinking placing him in charge of a fifteen year old boy? - he discovered that there was much more to it than that.

"Remember our first kiss?" Tseng murmurs, drawing closer, hearing Rufus moan softly at the movement, his legs wrapping around the older man's waist. His back is pressed against the glass wall, cold and tinged with green from the Mako. Anyone would be able to see them - if they could be up at this height anyway. On the sixty- third floor, they're safe, but at the same time, Tseng feels completely vulnerable, and that's what is so erotic about it. Seeing Midgar surrounding them when he looks up, knowing that one day, things will change for the better. Rufus frowns again, and Tseng has to fight back a smile, because the blonde looks thoroughly annoyed with the question. He never was one for romanticism. Never was one for remembering days gone by and smiling upon them fondly. And Tseng can't remember a time when Rufus has even said those words, "I love you" but somehow he doesn't really need to know them anyway. He can feel it when Rufus clings to him at night, under the covers of his bed, in the way the blonde will kiss him in the morning, still half asleep, and completely off guard. Rufus is always at his gentlest in the morning, too drowsy to resist. Too drowsy to be cold. And though Tseng likes him like that, he also knows that isn't who Rufus is. Rufus is cold. Commanding. And even a little cruel.

"I got what I wanted, didn't I? Move, Tseng," Rufus growls, closing his eyes and pressing his head back against the glass. Perhaps anyone else would have been hurt by such a reply from their lover, but Tseng knows better. Instead, he smiles, laughing inwardly, knowing Rufus would never admit that he was in love, that he was scared when he first pressed that kiss to Tsengs lips. And maybe he wasn't. Tseng doesn't know. All he knows is, Rufus's lips had crashed against his own on that cool morning, as Rufus shrugged his jacket on, and the blonde had not shown a single moment of fear. He'd tangled his hands in Tseng's hair, dislodging it from its usual ponytail, and he'd pulled the older man closer, until there was no space left between them. Tseng was too stunned to do anything but stand there dumbly, and when it was over, Rufus smiled at him, that same smile - not genuine, but almost cold - but he hadn't blushed, hadn't walked off as though he was scared, and hadn't known what he'd just done. He'd simply shrugged his jacket on once more, and told the older man that he would be late to his tutor if they didn't hurry.

"You did, in the end," Tseng muses, though he knows the sound of his voice will be annoying the blonde by now. He always liked to be silence during sex. "You're spoilt Rufus."

It was intended as a joke, something lighthearted, but Tseng sees the darkness creeping over Rufus's eyes, and he knows he's taken the wrong step. Rufus's hands grip at his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin painfully, as he tightens his legs around Tsengs waist.

"I would swap with anyone," he says darkly, his voice almost sounding empty, and Tseng bows his head, wanting to reach up and cup his cheek gently, press a kiss to it, and tell him everything is okay. But this is Rufus he's with. Rufus, who hates to show any kind of emotion, especially those which make him feel vulnerable. And which is the best at doing so? Love.

"I know," Tseng agrees softly, as Rufus looks to the ceiling, his head dropping back against the glass once more. Tseng almost thinks that the mood has been ruined, but Rufus's legs are still tight around his waist, and he moves his hips against the glass, glaring at Tseng to get a move on again. His cheeks are tinged red, his lips parted, and his blonde hair is sticking to his face. No one else gets to see this Rufus, and perhaps that's a privilege itself. To be able to see him with his guard down, with his hair messed and his normal clothing discarded. He's as pale as ever, from spending his life in the tower, and his hips are bony from the little he feels like eating lately. Nevertheless, he is beautiful. Beautiful in every way. Along with every cold smile, grimace, or cruel glance. Tseng doesn't love partially, he always thought that was such a waste, not true love at all. No, if he loves, he loves Rufus's entire being.

"Tseng," a whispered word from those parted lips brings Tseng back to reality, and he feels Rufus's hands gripping his shoulders once more, holding on tightly. But Tseng gently eases those hands down, pulling him down to the ground below, despite Rufus's frown, and the small protest. The floor is no doubt cold against the blonde's back, but it can't be any colder than the glass. Besides, Rufus looks too hot anyway, his cheeks red and his chest heaving. With careful movements, Tseng slides back into his lover - can he call Rufus a lover? He's not sure if he would, not sure if Rufus would use such a term either - earning a delightful shudder from the younger, his back arching from the floor once more. His knees are bent, feet planted on the floor, legs spread, and Tseng has never seen something more beautiful. Something more delightful. And he wishes tonight would never have to end. Because tomorrow, life continues on as normal. Rufus goes to his tutor during the day, Tseng completes his other duties, before picking him up once more, and attending whatever event President Shinra has scheduled, and requires Rufus to attend.

"Do you love me?" Tseng murmurs, his breath hot against Rufus's neck when he leans over, pressing his body against the younger man's, his hips still thrusting against his partner's. Rufus slides a few centimeters with each thrust, on the slippery floor, and he frowns up at Tseng, cracking his eyes open, though he seems to have difficulty doing so.

"Don't talk," he growls, reaching up to tangle his hands in Tseng's shoulder length hair, which has been let down for the night. His lips meet the elder's roughly, and the kiss is sloppy, messy, but passionate, and Tseng wouldn't want any other kind of kiss. Rufus always manages to maintain some sort of control - how does he do that? - even when he's the one beneath Tseng, shuddering lightly with every thrust. He's sixteen, Tseng, twenty-six, and yet he is the one always calm, always in control. And it never fails to amaze Tseng each and every time. He feels Rufus's tongue pressing against his own, before they break away, almost gasping for air, Rufus's chest pressed against his own.

And Tseng has never been the romantic either, has never called anything he felt love, before he met Rufus. But he whispers those words against in Rufus's ear, as though needing to know the answer.

"Do you love me Rufus," he whispers, giving another thrust, and feeling Rufus shuddering violently against him, his back arching off the floor and his hands tightening in Tseng's hair, pulling him down to press his head against the blonde's chest. Tseng groans loudly against his skin, feeling the other clenching around him tightly, with the force of his orgasm, and with another small thrust into the fragile body beneath him, he feels himself letting go. His orgasm washes over him in waves, brilliant waves, and he feels himself almost clinging to Rufus, just as Rufus is clinging to him. His question is almost all but forgotten, as his breathing begins to slow, and he feels himself gaining control again. He feels weak, spent, and when Rufus lets out a long sigh, he slowly and carefully pulls out of his lover - and doesn't question the use of the term now.

"The answer is yes." Rufus pulls himself up, pressing his palms against the cool floor, and swinging back around to press his back against the window. His hands press against it too, as he sits there, and it's no doubt cooling him down, but Tseng is confused for a moment.

"Yes?"

"The answer to your question." Rufus says almost coldly, letting his eyes slide closed, when Tseng moves up to sit beside him, letting the blonde rest his head on his shoulder. Tseng can almost feel his heartbeat when he moves a little closer, and it's a comforting feeling. It doesn't surprise Tseng that Rufus still does not say those actual words, "I love you." He's sure that the blonde would rather die than expose himself like that, because he always was proud, cautious.

"And one day," Rufus whispers, as the ticking of the clock makes itself heard again in the almost silence of the room. "This will all be ours."

His hand takes Tseng's and presses it against the glass of the window, the green tingeing their skin, and the coolness forming small misty shadows on the glass around their fingers.


End file.
